All language subtitles for The Ice House S01E01 x264 RB58.eng

Fred Phillips is running!

- Good Lord!
- Perhaps he's won the Lottery.

It'd take more than several million quid
to make Fred break out in a sweat.

- What's happened?
- I'm sorry, madam.

Fred, what's happened?

I found...

There's a body in the old ice house.

What are you doing?

My job, Mrs Maybury.

How many times do I have to tell you?
David walked out. There is no body.

A body? What sort of a body?

I didn't look closely.
I stepped on it before I saw it.

Oh! I wiped me feet on the grass
as soon as I could.

Very thoughtful. Thank you.
Er... Would you like some tea?

- Mm.
- Fred.

Oh, under the circumstances...

- Do you know who it is?
- Hm. It's been there a while.

- There's not much of it left.
- Do, please, sit down.

- So, is it male or female?
- I don't know.

- Surely it's got clothes on.
- Not that I could tell.

- You'd better show me.
- I'd rather not.

- Then I'll go on my own.
- No.

- I HAVE to see it.
- You're not going alone.

- I'll come. Phone the police.
- No.

We have no choice.

- What made you go in there?
- I've been repairing the kitchen garden wall.

Half the bricks were unusable. I remembered the
bricks we'd stored in here some years back.

- Looks as though you had to hack your way in.
- Come on. Let's get it over with.

Walsh.

Yeah.

We'll be there.

- Robinson! Blackshaw! McLoughlin!
- Sir.

We're paying a visit to the butch beauties
at Streech Grange. Now!

- What for, sir?
- To close the Maybury file, Nick.

Maybury? That must be... ten years!

Patience and determination -
first requirements in this job.

Come on, lads!

Fingers out, girls. Here they come.

- I'm terribly sorry.
- Don't be.

No one's going to hold you responsible if
some idiot chooses to die on your property.

There'll be a simple explanation. A tramp
took shelter and died of a heart attack.

- Exactly.
- There won't be any glass left if you keep on.

Tramps don't have heart attacks
on other people's property in the nude.

Detective Chief Inspector Walsh, Detective
Sergeant McLoughlin, Silverbourne police,

to see Mrs Maybury.

Wipe your feet.

- Chief Inspector Walsh, Sergeant McLoughlin.
- Thank you, Molly.

Perhaps you could make
some tea for everyone. Hm?

Mm.

It's been a long time, Mrs Maybury.

You haven't met my friends, Mrs Goode
and Miss Cattrell. They live here now.

- Permanently?
- Mostly. When our work doesn't take us away.

- I'm a freelance designer.
- Miss Cattrell is a journalist. I know.

I envy anyone living
in such beautiful surroundings.

Sergeant McLoughlin, we haven't met.

Mrs Goode.

Miss Cattrell.

Our reputation has obviously preceded us.

Don't worry. Shaking hands with a lesbian
is perfectly safe.

I've nothing against dykes, Miss Cattrell.

Just wouldn't stick my finger in one.

Please.

Body in ice house, Streech Grange?
What ice house?

At the bottom of the grounds in the woods.

We never found it at the time
of your husband's disappearance.

That's not surprising. It hasn't been used
for 50 years. It was grown over.

- Whose body is it?
- The body is unrecognisable.

- Is it your husband, Mrs Maybury?
- It's putrid, black, disgusting.

Did you look at it
because it might be your husband?

- Of course. Then I realised it couldn't be.
- Why not?

Fred, my gardener,
cut a way into the ice house six years ago.

We stored bricks in there.
David had been gone four by then.

Diana and I helped clear the ice house
six years ago. There were no corpses.

Perhaps he came back. We never traced him.

That's silly. How could he?
He's dead, murdered.

- How do you know?
- Because he'd be back here.

- David knew when he was well off.
- We never proved he was murdered.

I could give you 100 likely suspects.
David Maybury was a total bastard.

- Diana!
- I'm sorry, but he was.

Until you've examined the body it seems
pointless speculating on who it is.

- Show us the way, Mrs Maybury.
- Certainly.

- Phoebe?
- I'm all right.

There's something I forgot to tell you.
Hedges got to the corpse before I did.

He had a jolly time
rolling in its entrails.

That shook the sanctimonious little git!

Don't. Please.

For you, anything

This is it?

Yes.

Why don't you go back
to the house for a bit?

Oh!

Mind where you step.
There's bits all over the place.

Must be where the dog disturbed it.

Something or someone
has had a good go at eating it.

What's the matter? Five minutes ago you couldn't
be civil, now you're puking like a baby.

- Nothing, sir.
- I need a photographer and some decent light.

- Tell Dr Webster to get here as quick as he can.
- Sir.

The first you knew about the body was when
Mrs Goode said the police were on their way?

- What if it was?
- You always answer questions with questions?

Why do you want to know that?

All I'm trying to do is get background
details on the discovery of the body.

Mrs Goode said she phoned the police
then told you.

No need to come sneaking round
trying to find out if she's telling lies.

- Is she telling lies?
- No. She is not.

- What are you being so secretive about?
- Don't take that tone with me!

- Trying to browbeat me!
- Why would I want to do that?

Fred and me know all about your sort.

Good God!

Well?

By the size of the feet, male.

Can't be sure until I've done
some measurements, of course.

How long has he been dead?

Excreta. Fairly recent.

Probably animal.

There is the small matter of decomposition
being hastened by consumption.

We could be talking weeks.
We could be talking months.

- Years?
- No. We'd be looking at a skeleton.

Perhaps he's been in cold storage for ten years
and left here recently for someone to find?

David Maybury?

How did he die?

First guess, George, I'd say massive bleeding
from wound or wounds to the abdomen.

That's a very positive guess
for a forensic pathologist!

You'll have to find his clothes to be sure.

The whole area from the abdomen down
has been almost completely devoured.

Imagine him sitting up with his legs out
in front and blood pouring from his belly.

It would have seeped over
precisely those parts that have been eaten.

Would you say he was eaten alive?

He would probably have died
before the scavengers got to him.

- W-what sort of scavengers? Foxes? Rats?
- Something with strong jaws.

They've obviously had
a tug of war with him.

- Do you know what he reminds me of?
- What?

The bones on a breast of lamb

after my wife's skinned the meat off
with a sharp knife.

That had crossed my mind.

The villagers say the women who live here
are witches.

Come on! Let's get back out into daylight.

Mrs Maybury.

Mrs Maybury?

Sergeant.

Would it be all right
if we used the dining room to work in?

Of course. Yes.

Thank you.

What happened to his genitals?

Bitten off and consumed,
according to Webster's theory.

Personally,
I haven't ruled out a carving knife.

So where do we start, Andy?

The ice house, and who knew it was there.

It looked like a hill
so a stranger wouldn't know it was hollow.

- Hm.
- Excuse me, sir.

Their statements about finding the body
are consistent,

but I reckon I've found a
lead in another direction.

- Yeah?
- Mrs Phillips was very peculiar.

She wouldn't answer my questions,
really evasive.

Then she said,
"Me and Fred know all about your sort."

- OK.
- I think they've been in trouble before, sir.

We'll look into it.

Good work, Gavin.

We should lay on some sandwiches.
No one's eaten since midday.

- There's a pub at the bottom of the hill.
- Nothing too expensive.

Leave some for us and take the rest to the
lads at the ice house. Don't forget my change.

Is it Maybury?

That body's not been there for ten years.
Webster was talking in terms of months.

I'll reserve judgment
until I've read the post-mortem report.

Mrs Goode says that Maybury was a bastard.
Was he?

Depends who you talk to. A couple of tarts
tucked up in London spoke highly of him.

- Did his wife know?
- Claimed she didn't.

They'd had a hell of a row about something. Had
a bruise the size of a football on her cheek.

She'd been admitted to hospital on two previous
occasions. Said she was "accident prone".

Why didn't she leave? Is she the
sort that gets off on the attention?

The Grange has been in her family
for generations.

- He wouldn't leave either?
- Ran his wine business from here.

So she got rid of him.

- She must have come up with a hell of a story.
- Hm! Bloody awful!

She simply said he walked out of
here one night and never returned.

It was three days
before she reported him missing.

She only did that because
people had started to ask where he was.

In that time, she packed up all his clothes

and sent them to some charity
she couldn't remember the name of,

she burnt his photos and went through the
house with a vacuum cleaner and bleach.

She removed every single trace of him.

We turned the house and garden upside down.

All we found was some hair she'd missed
on a brush and an old blood donor card.

We scoured the countryside,
checked the airports, alerted Interpol,

released his photo to the press - nothing.

The man simply vanished.

- How did she explain the bruise on her face?
- Huh! A door. What else?

I tried to help her, suggested she
killed him out of self-defence.

But, no, he never touched her.

How is it girls always look so innocent
at that age?

Mrs Maybury's an extraordinary woman.
Never made it easy for herself.

Just kept on repeating that one night, without
a reason, he walked out and never came back.

Only dead men disappear
as completely as that.

Clever. Keep it simple so we've nothing to
pick holes in. Why didn't you charge her?

Why do you think? We needed a body!

Not one shred of evidence!
I dug up half of Hampshire looking for it.

You're right about this,
though, the ice house.

I searched those grounds.
I didn't know that flaming hill was hollow.

I bet Maybury's body was
in there all the time.

Yes?

- Am I disturbing you?
- Not at all!

Constable Williams said you were hungry,
so Molly made these up.

Thank you.

Could you spare us a few minutes,
Mrs Maybury?

Yes. Of course.

You seem to have acquired a profession
since we last met - market gardening.

Fred has helped me to start
a small pelargonium nursery.

- Who buys them?
- A supermarket chain, garden supplies outlets.

Any local trade?

- We don't sell direct to the public.
- Not very popular in Streech, are you?

Ten years ago, you were a doctor's
receptionist. Didn't you enjoy the job?

I was asked to leave.

The patients felt uncomfortable
with a murderess.

Why didn't you tell us about the ice house
ten years ago, Mrs Maybury?

- Sorry?
- We never knew it was there. You never told us.

I'd forgotten it existed.

When was the last time the ice house was
used before your husband's disappearance?

- I'm not sure. I told you, it was buried for years.
- Would anyone else know?

How about the children, Mrs Maybury? Hm?
What are they doing now?

Jonathan... is a medical student at Guy's.

Jane is studying politics and philosophy
at Oxford.

They're doing well. You must be very
proud of them. Do they still live here?

They spend the odd weekend, holidays here.

Will they be home this weekend?

Look, there was no body
in the ice house six years ago.

This has nothing to do
with David's disappearance.

I don't want the children harassed.
They suffered enough when David left.

- To have the horrendous trauma played out...
- Routine questions.

We suggested the children be sent away.
You chose to keep them here.

How dare you talk about choice?

My only choice was to keep things normal while
you accused me of murdering their father.

This time, I'm not having your vicious lies
anywhere near them, all right?

You just keep away!

Bit of a change from earlier.
Is she always this volatile?

Ten years ago,
we never rattled her composure once.

I think she's beginning to crack.

Jane must be kept out of the way.

- You're used to dealing with them.
- You'll run rings round them!

If you wipe the smirk off that sergeant's
face, you'll have my lifelong admiration.

Perhaps it's a disability, like a withered
arm. You'd be sympathetic about that.

The only disabilities that idiot has are in
his trousers. He's a prick and an arsehole.

- Sergeant.
- I'm looking for Mrs Goode.

- Inspector Walsh would like a word with her.
- She's not here.

- Well, where might I find her?
- I've no idea.

Excuse me!

Do you make a habit of forcing your way
into homes?

Mrs Maybury gave us
permission to come and go.

In HER house. You have no authority to enter
here except by permission or a warrant.

I'm sorry. I'd no idea you owned
this part of the house.

I don't. I rent it.

The legal position with regard
to police entry is the same.

What made you think Mrs
Goode might be here?

I couldn't find her anywhere else.
Does Mrs Goode live in the other wing?

She rents it.

But as for living there, three makes for more
exciting encounters than two, wouldn't you say?

Or have you never tried it?

You'll find Mrs Goode in her sitting room.
Allow me to show you out.

Walk straight through the body of the
main house until you reach the west wing.

It's the mirror image of this.

It even has a door-bell like mine.

See?

I know. I'm sorry.

Yes, two. Two, three...

- Ah. We've been waiting for you.
- How did you know we wanted to talk to you?

I didn't. I popped in to see if you'd
like some coffee. Just perfect timing.

Why didn't Mrs Maybury sell the Grange, move
away, once she'd got rid of her husband?

It's not hers to sell.

After a year of marriage to the bastard, she
persuaded her father to leave it to her children.

Why haven't the children sold it?

Phoebe's father left instructions that the house
couldn't be sold before Jane's 21st birthday,

except in very exceptional circumstances.

Rumours, persecution, abuse.
Seems pretty exceptional to me.

That's not the opinion of Jane's trustees.

Does she dislike the trustees
as much as they obviously dislike her?

- I wouldn't know. I've never asked them.
- Well, who are they?

Mrs Diana Goode
and Miss Anne Cattrell.

Her father must have thought highly of you to
entrust you with his grandchildren's future.

Did he know about the relationship
you both had with his daughter?

- That we were friends?
- I meant your relationship in the bedroom.

The effect it might have
on his grandchildren.

Colonel Gallagher knew everything about us.
We went to school together.

Why do you and Miss Cattrell
want Jane Maybury kept out of the way?

Jane was anorexic until 18 months ago.
She's still very fragile.

- Mrs Maybury never told us about her condition.
- Jane can't tell you anything.

How can you be so certain?

The killer's bound to be local. Dump the body
here and everybody's sure to think Phoebe did it.

Assuming you're right and the murderer is
local, how did they know about the ice house?

You'd never find it if you didn't.

- May I go?
- One more thing.

How did Mrs Maybury
come to employ the Phillips?

I believe Anne arranged it.

When you helped clear the rubbish from
the ice house, what exactly was in there?

Oh, well, there was nothing, just rubbish.

Yeah? Describe the inside
of the ice house for me.

How big is it?

What's the floor made of?

I can't remember.

Thank you, Mrs Goode.

Phoebe?

Oh, I'm... I'm sorry.

- It's a bloody mess, isn't it?
- Yes.

- They asked me about Fred and Molly.
- Hell.

Walsh also asked me to
describe the ice house.

God! He's a dangerous man.

I um... I didn't exactly help matters.
I walked out on them.

Phoebe, that's about the worst
possible thing you could have done.

I know. I know.

I know Anne would say
I was collaborating with the enemy,

but we have to give them
all our co-operation.

The sooner they solve this,
the sooner they'll leave us alone.

They want to question the children.

- Well, I don't think you can stop them.
- I could write to Jane's psychiatrist.

- He pronounced her fit 18 months ago.
- Not for this!

Di, I really think she's managed to get
over it. If we make her remember it now...

You could be under-estimating her.
She is YOUR daughter, you know.

And David's. However much I try to ignore
it, there is some of David in both of them.

Was it my fault?

No.

NO.

He was always selfish, always vicious.

We just never saw it through all the charm.

That didn't last long with me. Once he'd got
the money, he didn't have to pretend any more.

You know what kept me going through
those hours of questioning last time?

How I managed to stay calm,
in spite of what they were accusing me of?

It was the sheer bloody relief
that I'd finally got rid of the bastard.

There's something almost malevolent
about those three, don't you think?

- As if right and wrong didn't apply to them.
- Isn't that most women?

- Kelly been playing you up again?
- We had a row.

I bumped into her the other day, with Jack
Booth. Never seen her look so cheerful.

Probably because she's gone to
live with him. She left last week.

- Things will work out for the best.
- You believe that crap, sir?

- Found anything?
- Over there, sir.

We worked a 50-metre radius
around the ice house.

These are unlikely objects for anyone at
the Grange to have abandoned in the garden.

Still, you'd better ask. Tactfully,
of course. Get these bagged up, Ian.

Also, ask Fred Phillips if he's used a shotgun
recently, then continue your questioning.

- What will you do?
- Check on Anne Cattrell.

She's got a Special Branch file
from when she was a student.

Remember the "creative accounting" at the
Ministry of Defence? That was her scoop.

Then she'd be on one of the nationals.

She was - considered
a top investigative journalist

until she went freelance
and beached herself down here.

Perhaps she burnt herself out.

Don't under-estimate her. She knows
all about civil rights and police powers.

She was a press officer with CND,
a member of the Communist Party.

She lives in a mansion with servants.

What happened to all that solidarity shit
with the comrades?

Exactly. There must have been a compelling
reason to make her turn her back on all that.

You know what they say
about drinking alone.

Aye. There's no one to nag you!

Pint of bitter and a Scotch, please.

You're a copper.

- You asking me or telling me?
- We heard they found a body at the Grange.

- Yes.
- Is it him?

- Him?
- Maybury?

- We haven't made a positive identification.
- That'll be him. She'll have cut his heart out.

Had it on toast.

£3.10, please.

- I'll take care of it.
- No. Thank you.

Evening, sir.
Word is, you've found Maybury.

I'm taking nothing for granted, Bob.
That bastard's eluded me for ten years.

I can wait 24 hours before popping
the champagne. Any word from Webster?

- No.
- Do me a favour.

Give me a list of all persons reported missing in,
say, the last six months. I'll be in my office.

She's gonna make fools of you again.

An innocent man died. You're supposed
to protect us. That's what we pay you for.

She's evil. She should be behind bars.

He who is without sin,
let him first cast a stone.

- Maybury was no saint.
- Maybe he took a pop at her. She deserved it.

Carrying on with bloody lezzies. It's not
natural. Any man would have done the same.

You didn't fall for that shit, Paddy?
Maybury never touched her.

- Another Scotch.
- Know what I'd like to ask you, mate?

How come you can't park on a single yellow
for a minute without copping a ticket,

but a murderess is allowed to prowl about the
village threatening law-abiding citizens?

- I just want a quiet drink, OK?
- Oi! You don't live here!

I'm frightened. If I hadn't Eddie, I'd be a
prisoner in me own home. Ask the other girls.

- Leave the man alone!
- You weren't there!

You didn't have those bitches
doing things to you. It could have been me!

Alcoholic lemonades!
Any more talk like that and you're barred.

Well, it's the truth.
We all know the truth about them.

That's not what the tabloids said when your
mum tried to sell them the story. No proof.

- Too frightened in case they cut their balls off!
- Christ!

Get those pervs out of here
before they butcher someone else.

- If you want to press charges...
- Huh! No bloody point.

Sit down, Peter. He's had a hard day.

Sorry. This used to be a friendly little
community until Mrs Maybury came to live here.

- It's on the house.
- Thank you.

What do you mean, not falling
for all that stuff about Maybury?

Maybury told me it was the wife.

She used to hurt herself, then walk
around the village showing off the bruises.

- Nutter threw herself down the stairs once.
- Why bother?

- She didn't report him for assault.
- I never said the woman was stupid.

She wanted to make people sorry for her,
"loyal wife" shit.

Probably reckoned it would make a good
defence if you ever found the body.

Hm?

- I got these names.
- How many?

Two women. Both adolescents.
Both suspected runaways.

- The men?
- Three. A young Asian.

Mohammed Mirahmadi, history of depression.

Uh... An old man. Ken Chapel.

He walked out of sheltered accommodation
in June, never came back.

Odd no one spotted him
wearing bright checked trousers.

And, finally, a Daniel Clive Thompson, 52.

He was reported missing by his wife
ten weeks ago.

Man's business had gone bust. He took a train
to London. Last seen at Waterloo Station.

- Any live near Streech?
- The last one, Thompson.

In East Deller, the neighbouring village.

- Description?
- 5' 11". Dark hair gone grey.

Hazel eyes, well built, size eight shoe.
Want me to dig out his file?

No. Leave me the list.

It's Maybury, Bob. It's GOTTA be Maybury.

- You're late.
- For what?

Don't get the wrong idea.
I'm not coming back.

- You haven't been answering the phone.
- I'm never here, remember?

- You look awful.
- What do you want?

I've been to a solicitor about a divorce.
If we can settle things amicably...

Amicably? When were we ever friends?

A three-month warranty.
You've got yourself a nice little car.

- Lawrence will sort you out, all right?
- Cheers.

- I met that bloke last night.
- Peter Barnes?

He bought the place off Ken Casey
when he was forced to sell up.

Her husband wasn't the only person
Mrs Maybury's alleged to have bumped off.

Her parents were killed in a car crash.
Brake failure.

- Are you saying she tampered with the brakes?
- That's what the locals believe.

The coroner's verdict blamed fluid leakage
from a corroded hose.

Apparently, Casey never fixed it
when he serviced the car.

- How come the villagers didn't accept that?
- He didn't want to lose custom.

The scoundrel told everyone
Mrs Maybury messed with the brakes.

She wanted to get her hands on Streech
Grange. Mind you, the timing didn't help.

David Maybury had just lost everything
on a stock market gamble.

Mrs Maybury had two small children,
no money, no home.

- What happened to Ken Casey?
- Good question.

Although the villagers suspected Mrs Maybury
of murder, they didn't trust Casey either.

The bloke went bankrupt, moved away.

Peter Barnes got himself a bargain
when he bought this place.

Just nod if it's the husband.

- Here they come!
- Can you confirm the body is David Maybury?

- Are you close to making an arrest?
- Who's the body in the ice house?

This time, we want justice.
Bang up the bloody lezzies!

Bang up the bloody lezzies.

Um, take a seat.

Had you seen inside
the ice house before yesterday?

No.

Why did you say you and Mrs Goode
cleared it out six years ago?

Seemed a good idea
to save you time and trouble.

- It's never a good idea to tell the police lies.
- I'll remember that.

- Did you know where the ice house was?
- No.

- What did you think the hillock was?
- A hillock, probably.

You've lived here nine years.
You must have explored the grounds.

- Do I look like someone who takes exercise?
- You're very slim.

I eat very little, drink neat spirits and smoke
like a chimney. Does wonders for the figure.

We found some used condoms near the ice
house. Any idea who left them there?

It isn't me, Sergeant. I don't use them.

Have you had intercourse there
with someone who does?

With a man?

That's not exactly a sensible question
to ask a lesbian, is it?

There are allegations that the women here have
tried to seduce the local female population.

We're three vibrant,
exciting people, Sergeant.

We don't need sexual playthings,
male or female. We satisfy ourselves.

Are you all right?

Who suggested you come here? Mrs Maybury?

No one. It was my suggestion.

Why?

- London was getting too polluted.
- Crap!

I have to take my pleasures where I find them.
Phoebe wouldn't... couldn't come to London.

- I had to come here.
- Obviously, the price of pleasure is hypocrisy.

How do you square Streech Grange
and its servants with your conscience?

Someone has told you, "She's a lefty! She's
a feminist!" God knows what other rubbish!

And you, revelling in your superiority
as a heterosexual male,

have a go at me on matters of principle.

You're not interested in the truth,

just whether your inflated ego
can make a dent in mine.

Who are Molly and Fred Phillips?

They work for Phoebe
as housekeeper and gardener.

You arranged their employment.
How did you find them?

- I was introduced to them.
- Was one of your interests prison visiting?

Have they always been called Phillips?

We're going to find out one way or another.

Jefferson.

Five years each for the murder
of their lodger, Ian Donaghue.

Do you know why their sentences
were so lenient?

Donaghue abused and killed
their 12-year-old son.

They found him before the police did.

Hung him, then gave themselves up.

Do you approve of personal vengeance?

I sympathise with it.

Well, at last we found something
we can agree on.

...- them at the big house.
- Just some questions, my love.

- Well, I can't help you.
- Were you around in August?

Yeah, for most of August.
Went away for about a week.

Did you see this person around the 17th...?

- Mrs Ledbetter?
- Yes.

Detective Sergeant
Robinson, Silverbourne CID.

Oh, wait there, please.
I'll just phone the station and check.

- The Phillips must be grateful to Mrs Maybury.
- On the contrary.

- I'd say Phoebe's more grateful to them.
- Why?

When I moved in nine years ago
this place was a tip.

Phoebe had been managing
by herself for a year.

No one from Silverbourne, never mind
the village, would work for her.

She even had to do the house maintenance.
Fred and Molly changed her life.

What about the recent renovations? Who put in
the windows and the central heating? Fred?

- Phoebe.
- How?

She got a book out of the library.

- You never give up!
- What?

Propaganda! Women can fix engines,
hold down jobs and give each other orgasms!

What's the matter?
Frightened you're gonna become redundant?

You don't expect me to believe that Mrs Maybury
connected the central heating by herself?

Just because your wife doesn't know an S-bend
from a Y-front! I assume you're married.

You have that martyred look.

Were you worried Mrs Maybury was cracking
up? Is that the truth of you coming here?

I've never had a moment's concern about her
mental condition. She's more stable than you.

You're a psychiatrist, are you?

Put it this way, I know a chronic
drink problem when I see one.

I'm sorry.

- Do you want to ask me anything else?
- Are you going to report me for that?

Yes.

I don't know why I did it.

I do.

Because you're an inadequate little shit.

...Think carefully. No strangers or...?

Oh, there was this tramp.

- Called here?
- Yeah.

Reeked of booze.
That and the dirt made me feel sick.

You wouldn't remember what date that was?

Yeah. August 27th.

- Oh. You're very sure.
- Yeah, well, it was our Lauren's birthday.

I had ten screaming kids
tearing up my living room. Didn't I?

It must have been hard for you
both in prison, being separated.

I remember seeing pictures of your Paul. Looked
like a bright lad, a son to be proud of.

We don't talk about him.

Not even the happy memories?

Paul must be still part of your life,
be with you every day.

- We don't have to listen to this!
- We were proud of him. He was a treasure.

He was captain of the under-14s.

Do you have any other children?

No.

Losing your only child in that way...

I'd have done the same.

Sometimes, no punishment is good enough
unless it comes from your own hands.

The pervert deserved to die.

Maybury was a bastard.

Beat up his wife. Spent all her money.

A defenceless woman
trying to bring up two small kids.

He came back, didn't he?
Started threatening Mrs Maybury.

She...

You had to stop him.

Anyone would understand that.

You two happy here?

The only difference between a prison
and a fortress, Sergeant,

is that in a fortress
the doors are locked from the inside.

That wine is 30 years old and a grand cru.

It would be wasted on your palate.

- We're not open.
- Detective Sergeant Robinson.

Silverbourne CID.

If it's about the body at the Grange,
there's sod all I can tell you.

Someone mentioned seeing a tramp
a while back. Does that ring any bells?

There was one. Made a couple of pints
last till closing time.

When was this?

The wife might remember.
She's out at the cash and carry.

The body was discovered in the ice house.
Do you know the ice house?

I couldn't lead you to it.
I read about it in David Maybury's booklet.

- What booklet?
- One of David Maybury's half-baked ideas.

A map and history of the house. He ran
off a couple of dozen. Left some here.

The smooth bugger even persuaded Casey
to display a few at the garage.

They weren't exactly a best-seller.

- What happened to yours?
- It was years ago. Probably in the loft.

What kind of a man was Maybury?

A shit. A very appealing shit.

Upper middle-class, confident type.

- How well do you know the women?
- Oh, well enough.

Do you know about their, er...
sexual activities?

Three women forced to keep themselves
to themselves. Tongues begin to wag.

Well, Anne Cattrell did admit being
a lesbian to one of my colleagues.

She would. Anne enjoys taking
the piss out of the police.

I'm just setting the record straight. There's
been enough bullshit talked about those women.

Well, confidentially, I have heard that you
might know something about several used condoms

we found up near the ice house.

Who said that?

I promise I won't divulge anything you tell
me, but we are in the dark on this one, sir.

I'm a publican, not a policeman.

I guarantee that if we
don't get more information,

Mrs Maybury and her friends
will be charged with conspiracy.

Sit down, man. I'll get you a beer.

But if you ever breathe a word of this
to my wife, I'll break your balls.

This yours?

- Everything's in order. I have a licence.
- When did you last fire it?

- I don't remember.
- Try.

A month ago, maybe.

- Is that how he died?
- What do you shoot when you use it?

Warning shots into the air. A colony
of feral cats craps in this garden.

It rather puts one off eating the produce.

Did you use it to protect yourself
from your husband?

When he was abusive,
threatening to beat you up?

I never kept a loaded shotgun in the house
when the children were young.

Ah.

- I was going to ring you.
- I was passing. Well?

Don't you mean "who"?

I can't prove it is Maybury. I can't prove
it isn't. My professional guess is it isn't.

- Why, for God's sake?
- Too many discrepancies.

- They can't make a match on the hair, to start.
- What else?

Did you notice our corpse had no teeth?

Indications he had dentures,
but there were none with him.

Looks like something or
someone removed them.

David Maybury had all his teeth. Records
show they were in pretty good shape.

He could have had them taken out
to lose his identity.

Far-fetched, though not impossible.
Um, the filleting you pointed out.

I'm not positive human agency was involved.
Look at this close-up.

- You see this furrowing on the ribs?
- Hm.

I can't rule out tooth marks.

All that mutilation was caused by chewing?

If I'm right,
it would have had very strong teeth.

- What's his blood group?
- That's a match. "O" positive.

Just like 50% of the population.

You must find his clothes. There's little
blood in that dirt we scraped off the floor.

So, what GOOD news have you got me?

White, male, five foot ten inches approx.

Broad build, probably running to fat.

Hair on chest. Size eight shoe.

No idea of hair colour,
but probably brown before it went grey.

- Age, over 50.
- For God's sake, can't you be more precise?

If murdered, he may have been stabbed.
I found no trace of gunshot.

- OK. How long has he been dead?
- Two to three months.

That's all.

Bob, the file on the man reported missing
two months ago.

Daniel Thompson, address East Deller.
Get it out for me, would you? Thanks.

You bastard, Maybury!

We found a pair of shoes
near the scene of crime, sir.

- New heels. What size are they?
- Eights. Hardly a mark on 'em.

Find out what size shoes Fred Phillips
wears. Also, Mrs Maybury's son, Jonathan.

And tell McLoughlin
I want him in the ice house now.

I can't believe we missed this.
We thought it was a bloody hill.

Nothing's what it seems with this lot.
What's the matter? You look terrible.

- Ah. About Miss Cattrell...
- She's confessed and we can all go home?

- No.
- What, then?

She doesn't know anything about
the condoms. None of them do.

- Have you any idea who the body is?
- Is it your father?

- Get out of the way.
- When did you last see your father?

- I said get out of the way!
- All right. We'll have you through in a moment.

She can't have
murdered him twice.

It's not him in the ice house.
You let Maybury become an obsession.

I got a gut feeling
the moment I saw that mess yesterday.

You can't have us chasing red herrings
just 'cause you got a gut feeling.

The body's unidentifiable. Why?

Because someone doesn't want it identified.

Who took the clothes? Where are
the dentures? Why no fingerprints?

It was as likely it was mutilated
because it WAS Maybury as 'cause it wasn't.

- What about missing persons?
- There's one... possible candidate.

Daniel Thompson of East Deller went missing
the time our man was killed.

Anything to link him to the corpse?

When he went missing,
he was wearing brown lace-up shoes.

Mrs Thompson. Detective Chief Inspector
Walsh, Detective Sergeant McLoughlin.

We need to ask some questions
about your husband.

I told the other ones all I know.
I can't go through it all again.

We're only trying to help, Mrs Thompson.
It won't take a minute.

What size shoes does your husband take,
Mrs Thompson?

"Does". Does that mean you've found him?

I thought he was dead.

- He's lost his memory?
- No.

He must have.

- He wouldn't leave me.
- I'm afraid we haven't found your husband.

We're doing our best to trace him. The missing
person's report says he takes size eight.

Would these be your husband's shoes?
Do you remember these?

No. They're definitely not Daniel's.

He only had one pair of brown shoes. He
was wearing them the day he went to London.

When you reported him missing,
you said he had money problems?

His business went bankrupt.
Creditors keep ringing me up, shouting.

- I tell them he's dead.
- How do you know he's dead?

Well, he wouldn't abandon me,
if that's what you think.

Has your husband ever been to Streech Grange,
had any connection with the people there?

Those agents of the Devil?!

Daniel would rather have killed himself
than have anything to do with them!

- What did they want to know?
- Guess!

It isn't a game.

What size shoe I take.
Maybe they think I kicked the guy to death.

Oh, Jon, I do wish you wouldn't smoke.

It's quite like old times, this, isn't it?

- Shoes.
- Fred Phillips takes size ten.

- Jonathan Maybury, nines.
- Nick?

Maybury had a booklet done with a map of the
grounds. They were on display at the pub.

For God's sake! What incompetent
missed that first time around?!

There were only a couple of dozen, sir,
and not very many takers.

- Anything else?
- Several people remember a tramp about.

He bought drinks at the pub.
No definite date.

The 27th of August, sir. He knocked on
a couple of doors on the council estate.

Mrs Fowler sent him away 'cause he
turned up in the middle of a kid's party.

He was wearing an old trilby, green jacket
and bright checked trousers.

Probably no connection.
Tramps are two a penny round here. That it?

I followed a lead
and spoke to one of the condom users.

Name?

I promised I wouldn't reveal it,
unless absolutely necessary.

- Go on.
- Well...

On two occasions during the first two weeks of
September he and his girlfriend were, I quote,

"scared shitless by the most God-awful
racket, like souls crying in hell".

They took off in such a hurry
she left her knickers behind.

All right! What was it? Do they know?

They sussed it, sir.
Cats spitting and yowling.

How about the feral cats from the farm
fighting over the body?

If that's right and the dates are accurate,
we're beginning to get a timescale.

Looks like our victim was murdered during
or before the first week in September.

- How sure is your man of his dates?
- Pretty sure.

Uh-huh. Anything else?

- I've had conflicting reports about the women.
- How do you mean?

Almost everyone agrees that they're
lesbians trying to seduce the local girls!

Two of them, the two most sensible in
my view, say that's absolute rubbish,

that Anne Cattrell's had more men
than I've had hot dinners.

Bullshit! Course she's a lesbian.

Could be that she's done away with a jealous
lover, doesn't want us to make a connection.

Your informant's talking crap.
Everyone knows they're lesbians.

Because everyone knows it
doesn't make it true.

Anne Cattrell's been shoving lesbianism
down our throats since we got there.

Two people overheard a woman sobbing
one night, sir.

- When was that?
- Neither of them can remember.

See them again. Find out what they were
watching on telly. Was it fine? Raining?

If she wasn't sobbing
because she'd killed a man,

maybe she was sobbing
because she'd watched a man being killed.

- The next step will be a search warrant.
- Why didn't they do that last night?

Probably waiting
for the outcome of the post-mortem.

What about Jane?
Are they gonna question her?

- Yes. She's coming home this afternoon.
- Well, you mustn't let them.

- Tell her not to come.
- Jonny, we can't stop them.

If we do, we might make it worse.

- We just have to trust her.
- Trust her? You're crazy.

- Jon!
- She'll blow it. She'll ruin everything.

That's enough, Jon.

Uh!

I'll head up the search in Mrs Maybury's house.
McLoughlin, Blackshaw, take Miss Cattrell.

Robinson, Mrs Goode.

The rest take the cellars, outhouses, garage,
greenhouses. Important facts to remember.

Our man was stabbed,
his dentures and his clothing were removed

and it would help to ascertain who he was.

Likely contenders, David Maybury
and Daniel Thompson.

Descriptions have been circulated. Right.

I'll be in my study if you want me.

Mrs Maybury?

Get this, Sarge. Silly bitch!

- What is it?
- Her diary.

"I can't look on a penis
post-ejaculation without smiling.

"All that male pride
lying flaccid and useless.

"September 2nd. P's a mystery.

"He says he screws 50 women a year,
yet is the most considerate man I know."

- Give it to me.
- "Saturday, September 4th.

"I've looked into the grave
and eternity frightens me.

"I've been abandoned to exist for ever without
love or hope. I shall keep my light on tonight."

There's nothing in it.
Nothing that will help you.

What are you snickering at? You haven't got
a public life, never mind a private one.

Take your warrant card away
and your balls would drop off.

Your diary will help us establish your
movements during the past few months.

You'll get it back as soon
as we're finished with it.

I don't record my
movements, only my thoughts.

Sometimes when you're alone,
you don't think clearly.

I know.

"I have seen into the grave
and eternity frightens me."

- Why did you write that?
- I often write about death.

Had you just seen into a grave?

No.

- Does death frighten you?
- No. It annoys me.

- Oh? Why?
- Because I'll never know what happened next.

I want to read the whole book,
not just the first chapter. Don't you?

Yes.

You feared death at the
beginning of September.

I had a dream. My dreams are very real.

I woke early in darkness
and thought the dream was true.

That's what frightened me.

Why don't you feel sorry
for that wretch in the ice house?

- I do.
- You never said.

Neither has Mrs Maybury or Mrs Goode.

Most people would have shown some sympathy.

The only emotion any of you've shown so far
is irritation.

We save our sympathies for ourselves.

Compassion is a frail thing.

- You'd have to live here to understand that.
- I think you would have felt sorry for a stranger.

But you knew him.
And you didn't like him.

You're welcome to stay here while we work.

If you'd prefer to wait outside,
a constable will wait with you.

Oh, I'll stay, Sergeant.
Maybe I'll get an article out of it.

You know, "the marauding hands of the law"!

They're just business letters.
They're really boring.

- I'm going to have to remove these.
- It's got nothing to do with this.

- You'll get them back in due course.
- You've got no right.

Please, Mrs Goode.

The last thing I want to do is arrest you.

Very professional, I congratulate you.
Is that it?

Not quite. Could you open the safe, please?

What makes you think I've got a safe?

I found the one in the
library this morning.

Could you open it, please?

You heard the sergeant.
Open the bloody safe.

- Your analysis of your colleague appears correct.
- Open the safe, please, Miss Cattrell?

Thank you.

Anne Cattrell, I'm arresting you
on suspicion of murder.

You do not have to say anything, but it may
harm your defence if you do not mention,

when questioned,
something you later rely on in court.

Anything you say may be given in evidence.

- I want to phone my solicitor.
- Blackshaw, bag that.

Find Walsh and ask him to come here.
Jensen, rustle up forensics.

You should put those fag ends in the bin.
They leave marks when they burn.

Why do I have to wait for the inspector
before I call my solicitor?

Yeah. You don't. No. Please. Be my guest.

Oh!

It's OK. Come on.

I suppose it hasn't occurred to you
it might be worth eating from time to time?

Oh, shit!

You're a pain in the bloody
arse, McLoughlin!

If you're trying to drink yourself
into an early grave, fine.

God knows why you joined the police force, but if
you want to keep your job, do yourself a favour.

Walsh will have a fit if
he sees you like this.

You're a bloody awful liar, Cattrell.

You told me compassion was a frail thing.

In your hands, it's an offensive weapon.

Well, thank God for small mercies.
I'd like to phone my solicitor, Inspector.

I refuse to speak in front of the sergeant
or the creeps he brought with him.

Are you making a formal complaint
against Sergeant McLoughlin and his team?

I don't know. I'll wait until
I've taken legal advice.

I remind you, you haven't given me
a receipt for what's in my safe.

I'll write you out one now, Miss Cattrell.

Bill, it's Anne. I'm going to Silverbourne
police station for questioning. Can you meet me?

I'll explain when you arrive... Yup. Bye.

There'd better be nothing missing
when I get back.

I'm yet to meet a policeman
who doesn't have sticky fingers.

- What's going on?
- Tell your mother Bill Stanley's meeting me.

Make sure she takes the phone off the hook.
The press will have a field day!

Try and take your mum's mind off it.
Play her some records.

- Pat Boone's "Love Letters in the Sand".
- Pat Boone?

Absolutely. He's always a SAFE bet.
And don't hang about, will you?

- Inspector Walsh, have you made an arrest?
- Who is it she killed?

Die! You dirty bitch!

You dirty bitch!

Need any help?

I'm walking the dog. Is that a problem?

Just stick to the path, sir.

Oi! Get us a coffee!

Your solicitor's been
delayed, Miss Cattrell.

I'm not saying anything until he gets here.

How do you feel about the
arrest of your friend?

Did she murder your husband
out of love for you?

- Are you having a sexual relationship?
- Your live-in lover?

You bloody lezzie! You lezzie!